Virtual Mistress
by NayaFan
Summary: Quinn's unique relationship with Santana is what helps keep her going on rough days. She hasn't even seen her face, yet she trusts her with her life. Light BDSM, D/s, and domestic discipline. All consensual. ONE-SHOT


_**I do not own Glee or any of the original characters. It all belongs to Fox and RIB. Any characters you do not recognise are my own creations.**_

_**Quinn's unique relationship with Santana is what helps keep her going on rough days. She hasn't even seen her face, yet she trusts her with her life. Light BDSM, D/s, and domestic discipline. All consensual. ONE-SHOT**_

_**Just a small one-shot for now. I do have more plans to add to this next year, but for now it's just a teaser ;-)**_

_**R&amp;R please.**_

**Chapter 1**

Being stuck in the office until almost nine on a Friday evening is some people's idea of hell. For Quinn, however, it is a relief. It allows her to finally finish off a report that had nagging at the back of her mind for almost a week, and it allows her to do it without any interruptions. She doesn't know why she had been the one to have the young, annoying intern thrust onto her, but she doesn't like it. Not one bit. At least now she doesn't have to hear her annoying voice while she's trying to work. It feels like heaven. Well, only if heaven is filled with exhaustion and anxiety. Being away from her co-workers does help, though. There's nobody around at this time of night to make her feel like she is being smothered; no bosses to dump stress on her, and no panic attacks that make her feel as though someone has thrown a wet, heavy blanket over her head.

Sighing heavily, Quinn slumps back in her chair and scrubs her face with her hands. She's exhausted, and anxiety has been gradually building inside her for the last few fays. Her chest feels tighter and tighter with each passing hour. She'll feel better soon...she knows that. It's just a matter of waiting until she speaks to _her._ Days like today used to make her feel frustrated. She's an adult; a twenty seven year old, fully grown woman, but she still needs help just to make it through the day. It sometimes does still frustrate her, but not as much as it used to.

"Screw it," Quinn grumbles to herself as she closes the lid of her laptop. She can finish her work on Monday morning, she'll come in early. Quinn pulls her cell phone out of her purse and sends a simple text, _Leaving work now. Be home soon._ Packing up her things, Quinn heads out of her office and walks through the empty office building. The loud staccato of her heels obnoxiously echoes all around her, as though the marble floors are reprimanding her for being here so late. It won't be the only reprimand she receives tonight. She checks her watch as she walks out to the parking lot, it's a little after nine. Quinn's heart sinks...it's almost midnight in New York, she probably won't get to speak to her tonight.

She unlocks her car and slides in, automatically locking herself inside the vehicle...just like she was ordered to after someone tried to carjack her a few months ago. Los Angeles could be a scary place sometimes, just like most places could be. She opens the glove compartment to place her purse inside it, and falters when she sees a picture. She sees this picture every single night, and every single night it causes her to pause. Quinn picks the picture up and gazes down at the eleven year old girl who looks so much like her; Beth. A smile pulls at the corners of her full lips; she looks so happy. Placing it carefully back into the glove compartment, she smiles once more. The picture no longer represents regret and sadness, only relief and pride. She had done the right thing.

The good thing about leaving work so late is that there is no rush hour traffic. A journey which takes her an hour during rush hour, lasts a mere fifteen minutes tonight. It's a relief to see her apartment building come into view, and she has to force herself not to break any traffic laws in her rush to get there. Pulling into the underground garage, Quinn smiles softly at the old security guard who immediately steps closer to her parking space. Jack, the elderly guard, who seems to have worked here forever, had taken a shine to Quinn on the very first day she moved here. It's nice to know that someone has your back.

"Good evening, Miss Fabray. You're home late tonight," Jack states in his calm and quiet voice.

"Hey, Jack. Yeah...work." She dramatically rolls her eyes, and he chuckles softly. "Night shift tonight, huh? That sucks." The old man shrugs, his light blue eyes twinkling even in the dim light of the parking garage.

"I like the night shift, it's quiet. An old man likes some peace and quiet at times," he smiles. "You go on up, it's cold out," Jack tells her kindly.

"Alright, Jack. I hope it stays quiet for you. Goodnight." Quinn makes her way to the elevator and presses the call button, pulling her cell out of her purse as she waits. No response yet. Sighing softly, Quinn steps into the elevator and pushes the penthouse button. "Looks like you're on your own tonight, Quinn," she murmurs to herself, disappointment lacing her tone. The elevator seems to move as slowly as possible, and Quinn breathes out a soft, impatient sigh. It's funny how the more desperate you are to get home, the longer it seems to take to get there.

After a few more seconds, that feel much longer, the elevator doors slide open. Quinn steps out and unlocks the door to her apartment, relieved to be home after a long day. Her keys and shoes are abandoned by the door, just like they usually are, and her coat is haphazardly thrown on the hook. Sighing, Quinn makes her way into the kitchen and opens a bottle of her favourite red wine. She grabs a glass and carries it, and the bottle, into the living room, leaving both on the coffee table as she heads into her bedroom to change. She hates that she probably won't hear from her tonight and her chest feels even tighter than it has all week. Grabbing an old pair of sweatpants and a baggy t'shirt, Quinn quickly changes and throws the clothes she wore to work into the hamper.

"Hold it together, Quinn," she murmurs to herself as a lump rises in her throat. Quinn wonders how she lived her life before she came along. Quinn makes her way back to the living room and grabs her wine. She sinks into the sofa cushions and attempts to relax, but it's no use. She needs her. Quinn's cell phone blares out into the quiet apartment and Quinn almost trips herself up as she rushes to answer it, "Santana?"

"Is that how you are supposed to greet me?" comes Santana's immediate reprimand and Quinn winces.

"No. I'm sorry, ma'am," Quinn apologises.

"Greet me properly," Santana demands, her voice stern.

"Good evening, ma'am," Quinn obediently recites.

"Much better," Santana praises, her tone softening. "You stayed at work pretty late tonight," she notes. "Did you have dinner?" Quinn grimaces, adjusting the cell phone against her ear as her palm begins to sweat.

"No, ma'am," Quinn admits and she hears Santana sigh.

"Did you at least have lunch?" Santana questions. Quinn's stomach plummets, knowing she's about to earn herself a punishment.

"No, ma'am," Quinn whispers. "I haven't eaten today." Santana is silent for a moment, and Quinn's nerves build as she waits for her to speak again. It would have been so easy for her to lie. They're in different parts of the country and have never met in person. Hell, Quinn has never even seen Santana's face, but their unique relationship is built on trust. Lying erodes trust.

"Webcam. Now," is Santana's short, sharp order. Quinn winces when Santana ends the call. Quinn's pulse quickens, now she's really in trouble. She had known that Santana was not going to be impressed that she had skipped her meals today, and she only has herself to blame. Quinn makes her way through to her bedroom, where she keeps her personal laptop, and immediately closes the curtains. She switches the laptop on and sits down, impatiently waiting for it to finish starting up.

"Come on," she quietly urges the machine. Why does everything seem to take longer when she's in a rush? Finally, it flickers to life and Quinn immediately turns on the webcam. As usual, something is covering Santana's camera, but Quinn knows she is there.

"You look tired," Santana states. She isn't insulting her, she's concerned. "Are you getting enough sleep?"

"I'm trying to, ma'am," Quinn responds, "but I'm not getting enough," she adds honestly. Santana doesn't speak for a few minutes and Quinn feels self conscious. She knows Santana is scrutinising her, so she stands still, allowing Santana to study her as much as she needs to. She hears Santana clear her throat,

"strip." The one word order holds a lot of authority, and Quinn doesn't question it. She pulls her t'shirt over her head and throws it onto her bed, her bra joining the t'shirt a second later. Quinn can feel her face burning as she pushes her sweatpants down, feeling eyes that she can't see focusing on her body. It takes a moment for Quinn to slide her panties off, and Santana doesn't rush her. Finally, Quinn pushes them down her legs and steps out of them. "Good girl," Santana praises her.

"Thank you, ma'am," Quinn murmurs, her face flushing pink as she tosses her underwear aside. Quinn stands still, her arms at her side, as she waits for Santana's next command. Her bedroom is a little cooler than she'd like and goosebumps cover the surface of her porcelain skin.

"Go get the cream," Santana orders firmly. Quinn can't stop the groan that escapes her lips, and she's surprised that Santana doesn't comment on it. Quinn frowns deeply, a look on her face that almost passes as petulant as she walks around her bed. Opening the door of her bedside cabinet, Quinn pulls out a tube of cream and glares at it. She hates when Santana punishes her with the capsaicin cream, even though she agrees to it. Before her unique relationship with Santana began, Quinn had only heard of capsaicin as being an active ingredient in chilli peppers. Now, the mere mention of the word causes her tummy to nervously flutter. "Sit down." Quinn does as she is told, her clammy hand still gripping the tube of cream. "You need to eat," Santana states, her voice much softer now.

"I know, ma'am," Quinn murmurs, feeling ashamed of herself for needing to be taken in hand like this.

"Don't feel bad, sweetheart," Santana tells her, as though reading Quinn's mind. "It's okay to need help, and to need reminders and punishments. It doesn't make you weak. All it means is that you need help. Everyone needs help with something." Quinn shyly smiles at the black screen. Santana, for all of her stern authority, has a soft side. A soft side that she isn't afraid to allow out whenever she notices that Quinn needs some comfort.

"Thank you, ma'am," Quinn smiles.

"Now," Santana's voice takes on a stern tone again, "let's discuss what will happen this weekend. When you wake up tomorrow, there will be an email waiting for you," Santana begins. "There will be a list in that email...a shopping list. "You will buy everything in as few stores as possible." Santana's voice is stern, with a threatening edge. She's daring Quinn to disobey tomorrow. "I would like pictures of your receipts to prove you didn't go to several stores," Santana adds.

"Yes, ma'am," Quinn nods, nervously chewing the inside of her cheek.

"I will transfer money into your account," Santana states. "These items should be paid for by your mistress," she quickly adds before Quinn can argue. "You will, undoubtedly, work out what most of the items are for, but we will talk more about that tomorrow evening. Okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Quinn breathes out. Her heart is pounding, and she almost drowns in anticipation.

"As for tonight," Santana begins. "We have your punishment to take care of, and then you need to eat and rest," Santana says in a no nonsense tone of voice. "We won't be speaking for much longer this evening, it's late, but I will supervise your punishment before I leave," Santana tells her. "You will put the cream on, then you will eat, then you will rest. The cream is not to be washed off until morning. I will know if you disobey me."

It's true, Santana would definitely know. In the unlikely event that Quinn would attempt to disobey her, the woman is such an awful liar that Santana would immediately notice she isn't being truthful. It surprises her that Quinn has managed to mask her struggles to those around her, but Santana supposes that people must not have looked very closely. One gaze into Quinn's eyes had told her very quickly that the woman was suffering. It makes her sad that nobody had looked before.

"I won't disobey you, ma'am," Quinn promises Santana, her eyes wide and sincere.

"I know." Santana's voice is soft, and it's a great comfort to Quinn to know that her mistress trusts her so much. "Now, let's get that punishment taking care of, huh?" Santana states gently. "The sooner we do it, the sooner you can eat and rest, sweetheart." Quinn smiles at the term of endearment.

"Okay, ma'am," Quinn murmurs, nodding timidly.

"You know what to do," Santana urges her, and Quinn can feel her watching her. With shaky hands, Quinn twists the cap and pops it off, the strong aroma of the cream instantly assaulting her nose. She must have made a disgusted face without realizing it, because she hears Santana chuckle softly. "Aren't you forgetting something, my girl?" Santana questions her, and Quinn winces.

"Sorry, ma'am," Quinn murmurs as she reaches into the desk drawer and pulls out a pair of latex gloves.

"It's a punishment aimed at your backside, not at your hands," she hears Santana say lightly. Quinn cringes as she pulls the gloves on and picks the tube of cream back up again. She gently squeezes the tube, slowly collecting the cream in the palm of her hand and waiting for permission to stop. "That's enough," Quinn hears Santana say, and she's relieved. The first time they used this cream, Quinn had used way more than necessary. She's glad to have Santana's guidance on this matter, too.

"Now, ma'am?" Quinn quietly questions, staring into the dark screen as she waits for her mistress to respond.

"Now," Santana confirms. Quinn lets out a short, sharp breath through her nose as she places the tube of capsaicin cream back on the desk. She hates this part. Quinn rises to her feet and takes a couple of steps back from her laptop to ensure Santana can see the punishment, and she lets out another breath. Shakily Quinn rubs her hands together and reaches around, placing her hands on her naked ass.

Timidly, she slowly rubs the cream into her flesh, ensuring she covers her entire ass. She focuses particularly on her sit spots, just as Santana had taught her to do. Turning around, Quinn lets Santana see her backside as she finishes massaging the cream into her skin. She can feel her face burning, and she knows she must be furiously blushing. Embarrassment flows through her as she waits for Santana's permission to turn around again. She feels so vulnerable, and goosebumps erupt all over her body. It's intimate, and it makes her heart hammer in her chest.

"Okay. Good job, my girl," she hears Santana murmur. "You can turn back around." Quinn does as she is told and shuffles around to face the computer again. She can feel the cream start to work, the skin of her butt beginning to feel itchy and warm. "You need to take care of yourself, Quinn," Santana tells her. "You need to eat and you need to get more sleep. That's why you are being punished... you must eat, Quinn."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, ma'am," Quinn murmurs. Her ass is getting much warmer now and she shuffles awkwardly.

"Take the gloves off and sit down," Santana instructs her. Quinn lets out a little whine, she knows from past experience that putting pressure on her ass makes the cream react faster. "Now, Quinn." Santana's voice takes on a stern edge, and Quinn knows better than to argue with her. Tentatively, Quinn lowers herself onto the chair, tears springing to her eyes as the heat continues to build. She peels the gloves off and places them in the waste basket beside her desk, trying her best to ignore the fact that it feels like she is sitting on a hot plate. It feels like the aftermath of a brisk hand spanking, and her tears leak easily now.

At the same time, though, it makes her feel better. She no longer feels like she could burst into a panic attack at any moment. Just speaking to Santana had taken the edge off, and now she can breathe much more easily. Her chest is no longer tight and her senses no longer feel dulled. She feels chastised, and cared for, and calmer. Only Santana can make her feel better like this.

"Thank you, ma'am," she whispers, despite the fire that s_till_ burns in her nether region. The heat will last a couple of hours, but Quinn knows it will become more bearable in around an hour or so. She also knows that the surface of the skin will be a light pink colour, but there is no last damage to her ass. Tomorrow, it will be as though she never applied it. Until she showers and the hot water re-activates the cream, that is.

"You're welcome, honey." Santana's voice is once again soft and tender, and the legitimate care for Quinn is evident in her tone. "I'd like you to go and eat now, and I will email you the list in the morning and then I will see you again tomorrow evening. Okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Quinn nods, swiping at the tears that are racing from her hazel eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, but suddenly falters. Quinn is unsure if she should question her mistress in such a way.

"What is it, Quinn?" Santana doesn't sound irritated about Quinn's obvious desire to question her. In fact, she sounds merely curious.

"I just..." Quinn pauses and sighs softly, "I would like to meet you."

"I know," she hears Santana respond.

"Please, ma'am? When can I see you? When can I meet you?" Quinn forces herself to remain as polite and respectful as possible, but she is aware that her desperation has seeped into her voice. For a moment, she is met with silence and she begins to panic. Had she overstepped? Had she earned more punishment. She knows the rules, and she is convinced that she has just shattered them. Quinn goes to speak again, but she is cut off by Santana's simple response,

"soon."

_**-FIN- **_

_**So, yeah, a small teaser that is a one-shot for now. I hope there's interest for this story as this will be my main focus as soon as I'm finished the majority of my stories. **_

_**Feedback would be appreciated!**_


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